


silver on your tongue, copper on your lips

by HearJessRoar



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, M/M, Making Out, Remix, Sparring, Spoilers for Season 3, also rated for the implications of what hormonal teenage boys do, if daniel walks in on ONE MORE TEENAGE MAKEOUT in his goddamn dojo hes gonna mcfreakin lose it, mildly introspective, rated for everyone being sweary as hell yall wash ur mouths out with soap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HearJessRoar/pseuds/HearJessRoar
Summary: He'd forgotten that Demetri had learned some serious lightning jabs until he'd taken several of them to the jaw.And then he'd gotten mad, and his blood had started to simmer, and Demetri had gotten cocky, and that made itworsebecause when Demetri got cocky he got talky, and nobody on the whole planet can get under Hawk's skin quite like Demetri can.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence, Demetri (Cobra Kai)/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Comments: 29
Kudos: 269





	silver on your tongue, copper on your lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonace/gifts).
  * Inspired by [i wrote this gay fic in stats with the weed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579926) by [moonace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonace/pseuds/moonace). 



Hawk can taste blood in his teeth.

If he catches another of Demetri's speed knuckle punches to his mouth, he's gonna lose his shit.

Because this is _Demetri,_ wimpy little Demetri, with the gangly limbs and the burning eyes and that loud mouth that never _shut up_ and god, wouldn't Hawk _love_ to shut him up, make him beg for mercy, hear that terrified squeak against his own lips-

What.

The _fuck_.

He freezes, like some goddamn baby deer on the mat, and Demetri, not expecting his sparring partner to full on _stop_ , cannot take the momentum out of his kick in time.

Hawk goes down hard.

He barely feels it.

The light filtering in through the inner dojo is bright for how hard it's raining outside. And it had been really nice of Sensei LaRusso to let them spar inside today.

Sensei Lawrence had told him he was a pussy. 

One thing led to another and now it's only Hawk and Demetri left in the dojo, while their senseis are still sparring in the rain.

Hawk had checked on them before they started this bout; their sparring had turned into back-alley brawl style mud wrestling at some point, and nobody had felt like going outside and getting between them to cut this latest fight off at the knees.

They could only break up a catfight between two grown men so many times before it started getting old, honestly.

So everyone had gone home, and Demetri had asked him to show him how he'd done a specific scissor kick, and Hawk wasn't going to say _no_ to showing off.

And now here he is, flat on his back, wondering when in the actual fuck he'd started thinking about Demetri's big fat mouth in any way other than negative terms.

This is what he gets for going soft, he thinks. His ass handed to him by goddamn _Demetri_.

_Again._

But Hawk doesn't want to go back to the way he was. He doesn't want to be the person who broke Demetri's arm, the person who beat the shit out of Brucks.

He used to hate guys like him.

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

What a bunch of Christopher Nolan Batman bullshit.

He shouldn’t have to die to stay the hero of his own story, but like hell does he want to stay the villain after everything that had happened.

There has to be a middle ground between being _Eli_ and being _Hawk._

He just has to find it.

Demetri hovers over him like a panicky hen, terrified of the fact that he just managed to put down _Hawk_ when he wasn't even trying to.

And Hawk should find it funny. He'd been going easy on him, letting Demetri get in a few easy shots.

He'd forgotten that Demetri had learned some serious lightning jabs until he'd taken several of them to the jaw.

And then he'd gotten mad, and his blood had started to simmer, and Demetri had gotten cocky, and that made it _worse_ because when Demetri got cocky he got talky, and nobody on the whole planet can get under Hawk's skin quite like Demetri can.

And now he can't stop staring at Demetri's lips.

He's just been humiliated, and he doesn't even _care_.

Moon would be proud of him, he thinks.

He raises his hand to the air, cutting off Demetri's frantic babble. Demetri looks at him with wide eyes.

"Help me up, you dishonorable jackass," Hawk says with an eye roll. 

He does, and their palms connect with a current of electric that travels up Hawk's arm as Demetri pulls him to his feet.

He turns away to check if the back of his mohawk got flattened with his hands, and sees Demetri rolling his eyes at him in his peripheral vision. He snorts, and makes like he's going to lunge at him, just to make sure Demetri knows who's still the king around here.

Demetri doesn't flinch.

Huh.

Interesting.

Hawk rocks back on his feet, and snorts again. 

Fine. That was hot, he admits it, if only to himself.

He rolls his shoulders like he’s working out a sore spot, if only to make it seem like he’s unaffected. His neck pops satisfyingly, and Demetri winces.

He’ll take his victories where he can get them. And he’s ready to walk away, to tell Demetri he didn’t completely suck today, to go home and shower and forget the whole stupid thought that started this bullshit in the first place.

But then Demetri’s big fat mouth says, “That was too easy. Am I getting better, or are you getting worse?”

Hawk growls.

He whips around to face Demetri’s suddenly terrified expression, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hates that he causes this reaction in his oldest friend, he _hates it_ , but the forefront of his brain is preoccupied by wrapping his hands just above Demetri’s elbows, locking him in place.

He pushes him backwards and slams him _hard_ up against the wall of the dojo. Demetri barely manages to avoid braining himself against the wooden planks by jerking forward at the last second. Hawk’s fingers dig into his arms.

Demetri looks about three seconds from pissing himself and a nauseous pit forms in Hawk’s stomach. He hates himself for this, for who he’s become.

They stare at each other, Hawk’s gaze hard and unforgiving as he can manage, Demetri’s chest heaving a hairsbreadth from his own. He does nothing, but doesn’t relinquish his vice grip either.

And he wants so badly to make that stupid mouth shut up, but he’s not the type of guy to force himself on someone, not even at his worst, so he just.

Stares.

His heart pounds in the too-small cage of his ribs, his lungs refusing to be used to their full capacity as he takes in sharp, annoyed breaths through his nose.

And then.

Demetri’s gazes flickers downward to his mouth, eyes blazing with blatant, open _want_ , and it rocks Hawk to his core.

He hopes it counts as permission, because without another thought, he’s got his lips pressed to Demetri’s, and Demetri freezes for a moment, just for one heartstopping moment-

-he presses right back, thank god.

Hawk is reminded forcefully of the last time they’d been here, when they were twelve and camped out in Demetri’s bedroom, both of them agreeing that getting a first kiss out of the way was better than nothing and if you couldn’t kiss your best friend then who could you kiss anyway?

Except this is so much better.

His mouth still tastes like copper, like pennies, and he wonders fleetingly if Demetri can taste it too, if he can taste the damage he's done.

Hawk tilts his head for a better angle, and feels Demetri’s smug smile tug against his mouth. He pulls away just far enough to sink his teeth into Demetri’s bottom lip, briefly, more gently than he wants to. “Don’t smirk at me while I’m kissing you, you cocky shit,” he murmurs, kissing down to the underside of Demetri’s jaw.

He loosens his grip on Demetri’s arms, letting his fingers ghost over his skin. Demetri sucks in a sharp gasp through his nose. Hawk knows why, and he’s back to hating himself, because he can feel where Demetri’s arm is still atrophied from his cast.

He mouths _i’m sorry_ into Demetri’s throat like it means anything at all. And there’s no way Demetri can tell what he’s trying to say but he still squirms in Hawk’s grip.

“Hawk-”

“ _Eli,_ ” he insists. He can’t stand the way Demetri says his chosen name, he _can’t_.

“Make up your fucking mind,” Demetri hisses, low and broken and a little bit _wrecked._

Hawk won’t let him get away with being snarky at him right now, he _won’t_ , because if everything is a competition in his life then this _definitely_ is, and he doesn’t take losing ground lightly, so he nips at the tender skin under Demetri’s ear and feels his jaw work helplessly as he tries not to react.

“ _Shit,_ this is way better than with Yaz,” Demetri breathes, and well damn, that’s new information. Hawk takes it as a compliment, but makes a mental note to ask later why Demetri has enough experience with Yazmine’s mouth to compare to his, and then also to make him describe in detail exactly why Hawk is better.

Because this is also way better than with Moon, not that he’ll ever let Demetri know that.

He comes back to Demetri’s mouth, spit slick and open against his as Demetri works one of his hands free of Hawk’s hold on his wrists. He presses it to Hawk’s jaw to keep him in place, his fingers curling just under his ear and _fuck_ he’s the loser who just whimpered, goddamnit.

He shoves his thigh between Demetri’s legs, only intending to get closer, but then Demetri groans into his ear and-

“Jesus Christ, what is it about this room that makes teenagers lose their goddamn minds?”

Sensei LaRusso’s pained voice rips them apart with a startled jolt. They stare at each other, horrified, and Hawk hates that Demetri’s kiss-bruised lips have his immediate attention and sensei be damned, he really just wants to make them even worse. But they’ve been caught, and as his face flushes hot with embarrassment, he whips around to face the music.

He’s not a coward, dammit.

But the pain in Sensei LaRusso’s voice doesn’t seem to be because he just caught two boys macking on each other in his dojo. Actually, it looks like it’s because of the funny way he’s holding his left leg.

And Sensei Lawrence is half carrying him, looking more annoyed by that than anything else as he shifts in place, Sensei LaRusso’s arm locked over his shoulders. They’re both completely soaked with rainwater, and muddy up to the knees of their workout gear. The left leg of Sensei LaRusso’s sweatpants is rolled up, giving a good view of his injury.

Gross.

Sensei Lawrence rolls his eyes, and jabs two fingers of his free hand at Hawk. Hawk tilts his chin up in defiance, shifts so he’s standing in front of Demetri, and he refuses to call it _protectively_ , but that’s not what Sensei Lawrence wants to yell at him for.

“This,” he says, gesturing at Sensei LaRusso hanging off of him. “ _this_ is why we do not go for cheap shots. Because thirty-some goddamn years after you bust his already-fucked knee with your elbow, that same fucking knee is gonna dislocate mid-spar, and you’re gonna have to take his dumb ass to the hospital. You get me, Hawk? Don’t ever play dirty again, god punishes you for it.”

Sensei LaRusso is grinding his teeth, and the more Hawk gets to know him, the more he respects the man, because that leg looks _disgusting_ , and if it’d been him, forget his reputation, he’d probably have been on the floor hyperventilating. Sensei LaRusso is like a million years old but he’s still (kind of) standing with a twisted knee. 

Badass.

And it’s kind of cool that his accent gets harsher both when he’s pissed off _and_ when he’s in pain. “I don’t need the hospital. An’ you two-”

“Fuckin’ Jersey-ass punk bitch, will you shut up?” Sensei Lawrence grumbles, jostling the other man on purpose. Sensei LaRusso hisses through his teeth. “I’m taking him to the hospital. Hawk, lock the place up for us.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, tossing them to Hawk.

He catches them with one hand and nods to his sensei, watching as they leave, Sensei Lawrence telling Sensei LaRusso to quit his bitching all the way to the door.

Demetri reaches out and grabs the back of Hawk’s sweatshirt, like he’s trying to remind him that he’s still there. 

Like Hawk could ever forget.

And yeah, they should probably talk about what had just happened, but quite frankly, Hawk doesn’t want to _talk_ right now. He’s very certain that their mouths could be used for much more interesting hobbies than talking, and he really wants to get back to it.

“Do _not_ defile my goddamn dojo!” calls Sensei LaRusso just before the front door closes, like he can read Hawk’s mind. Hawk grins, turning to Demetri.

Sounds like a challenge to him.

**Author's Note:**

> hi cobra kai fandom! this isn't my sandbox so i promise i'll put everything back where i found it, but moony said i could borrow an idea, and everything spiraled from there now here we are, unedited as always.
> 
> daniel and johnny were also having a muddy make out session outside it just wasn't relevant to hawk's journey.
> 
> don't get me wrong i think these boys need to have a serious chat about demetri's trauma caused by hawk, and hawk should probably uhhhh go to therapy. but its cobra kai so-
> 
> pls pls pls leave me a comment if you liked it, writing for a new fandom is always so _nerve-racking_ and i hate not knowing if people liked it or not.
> 
> go read moony's fic!!!


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